


Mirror Image

by phene



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Form, Destiel - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, they fuck on the counter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phene/pseuds/phene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is mojoed out again and Dean is sick of seeing his angel like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Image

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doc_Reidy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doc_Reidy/gifts).



> Only proof read it twice on my own. Sorry. Also, it's a bit schmoopy. Then smut :D. Carry on.

 

Mirror Image

Such a lean body - small - delicate - smooth. It was just that kind of body with the perfect inlay of accompanying features. There were these electric blue, always curious eyes, this thrum of a subwoofer mixed with a gravely undertone voice, and the nativity to drive any man to hell and back. For Dean, he’d do exactly that again and twice over just for a touch. He’d hang on the racks to have the grace laden eyes pointedly staring into the very being of his existence. With this terrifying thought of admittance on Dean’s mind almost always, he had a hell of a difficult time watching idly as Castiel manually stripped down in the dingy excuse of a motel bathroom. He was checking his wounds, his still bleeding, torn, shredded flesh where the stark white of bone was showing, wounds. Half of him wanted to coddle the angel, half wanted to fuck him senseless. Okay, 49/51 respectively, leaving a percent error for pie related scenarios. It only took three long strides to place Dean behind Castiel.

All mojoed-out and concerned by his vessel’s condition, Castiel almost didn't register Dean mere inches behind him, just hovering. Wasn’t this called ‘ _personal space_ ’? He went stiff, one hand poised around a rather deep entry wound through his ribs and the other furled in his bunched up shirt which was a dirty shade of crimson. His blood was still pattering on the floor in an off rhythm, creating a smudged puddle.

“You wasted your power on Sammy and me,” Dean said more to himself.

So. Close. God, he could smell Castiel, all dirty muck, blood -- some not even his own -- and most of all, human. Yeah, he smelled like a human.

“You both sustained multiple broken bones and had internal bleeding. Should I have let you be?” Castiel asked with a bite.

“Yeah, you should have. Then, you could heal yourself. Look at you,” Dean huffed, quickly losing composure. After a moment, Dean let himself go when Castiel still hadn’t moved on his order.

“I said _look_ ,” Dean echoed.

Castiel’s demeanor sank as Dean snared about him, his waist, his shoulders, firm hands to the centre of his chest and neck. He was trapped.

Dean felt so hot, so human, so real; purely raw and cocksure of himself. He damned the shudder his vessel gave at the contact between them.

"Look," Dean husked behind his blood smudged ear, drooping lower to press those full lips to his gouged neck.

Wait, what -- what was Dean doing? Before he could question it, Dean's hand came up his neck to cup his jawline and tilt his face to the scuffed mirror.

At first, Castiel saw his true form, something of fettered wings and rigid bones -- a shape unfathomable and obscenely frightening to human concept; long, merely skin taut over bones, pale near sickly blue, looking of death with splinters of wings tearing from the head and shoulders, all the way to the crook of the elbows and wrists, again at the ankles, all sad excuses of broken bones that had been shattered by time. Then that faded and the blue eyes scoured over Dean, the solid form behind him, the pressure to his back, the heat of a living being melting into him where their skin met. He was bonded to Dean, and only he could make the angel feel this _normal_ , feel like he was okay, like he was accepted. The hunter still looked dirty despite the angel mojo worked on him earlier, but a certain kind of dirty, a smudge on his soul, a mark that could not be erased no matter the strength of the power used. But, he was perfect -- a soldier, a dutiful being set on besting himself by heedlessly following the orders given. Was he really a soldier, still? Castiel saw him as a captain, a leader; he was no longer the mutt to be ordered about. Castiel would follow him to where the world dropped off into hell itself.

The hazel eyes were soft though Dean's body demanding as he pressed to Castiel again, more insistent, like a nudge. Castiel couldn't resist the next order given, even if his powers were peaked.

"At yourself," Dean interjected verbally in a near inaudible mumble to the nape of the angel's neck.

Beaten, the angel released his shirt to drop, relinquishing his hands to hang by his sides. Slowly, hesitantly with curled, empty fists, he redirected his glossy gaze to the messy excuse of his vessel in the mirror. Dirty. But nothing like Dean. Before he could list the flaws, he jerked away from the sight, spun himself around only to have his face buried in Dean's shoulder by a strong hand at his nape. No one should see him like that. He was a mess, a soldier without an order. He wanted to run, hide. Then Dean's hand was petting back  his tousled hair, comforting, guiding. Why was it so goddamn soothing?

"Only let me see this, see you." The hunter's voice was somehow deeper, not demanding though comforting, possessive.

"Dean, I am unsure of what's happening, on earth, in heaven, with you two, all of it," Castiel admitted blindly, still hidden in the strong shoulder, muffled

"I've always had you. Just trust me.

"De--"

" _Castiel_."

It had been a long time -- _years_ \-- since Dean used his full name. His next words just flowed out of him, right off the tongue, "Yes, Dean. What would you have of me?"

A soldier at heart.

He felt Dean smile, bury his face up into the angel's dark hair and smile some more.

"Just you. Be you. Be my angel."

Castiel's brows furrowed as he pulled his head away to see Dean's face. His hand touched Dean's right shoulder and slid itself down over his imprint with a certain amount of ease. The human let out an effortless sound, from his throat, like a pleased sigh, or huff, or -- it didn't matter, it was affirming. And Dean laughed.

"Yeah, just like that."

Castiel's mouth was sealed by Dean's before his questioning words would form. Castiel panicked a moment, then it hit him with eyes wide and body stiff. They were kissing. Right. He could kiss. He became unbearably pliant, at Dean's will, following his lead. It was just lips, soft pants and lips. Castiel decided he liked it -- a lot for that matter, so much that when Dean pulled back for a breath, he followed, pushing Dean into the door and closing it roughly with a slam. Dean instantly pushed back, his hands sliding and pulling at every bit of the angel he could touch. First the chest, peeling layer after layer of the bloodied suit ensemble from the tauntingly smooth skin 'til they hit something solid, the counter, and the breath was knocked from their lungs.  

Castiel groaned.

"Did I hurt you?" Dean asked honestly, though his voice was husky with need. His hands froze in their path against the flat, trim chest.  

Castiel only shuddered and rocked his hips involuntarily while his hand clutched at Dean's jacket for any kind of support.

Oh. _Oh_.

Dean felt the rut of the angel's erection against the thigh he had shoved between the lithe legs. His body had a mind of it's own sometimes, and it knew what it wanted. He pressed it harder, met Castiel's frantic stutters. The poor thing wasn't sure what to do with himself. Dean remedied that. The trench coat, blazer, and shirt were gone, piled on the floor at their feet. Dean was thankfully caressing Castiel's healed skin, so smooth, lean, taut, twitching under his fingers.

"You healed," he hummed.

Castiel gasped a shallow breath. He desperately enjoyed being touched, a lot like being kissed. It was all hot, his body, Dean, all of it, even his Grace, which seemed to be spilling from him the longer they stayed together. He shamefully liked it all.

"Our bond can replenish my grace to a certain extent," he explained plainly although his voice had gone rough.

Dean poked his cheek with his tongue, pondering the thought. After a moment, he took Castiel's death grip from his jacket lapel and guided it down, beneath the jacket, the flannel, the tee, to the skin stretched about his prominent hip. They both made a pitifully low sound, very feral, at the contact. Their eyes flickered to each other, lingering for a moment as Dean held Castiel's hand to his rigid hip and slowly eased it over the nervous muscles of his stomach. Dean tore his shirts over his head the next second, having smashed their lips together in a rush of teeth and lips and tongue, a messy blur. The angel went submissive, following Dean's lead, copying him and matching the movements with his tongue, eventually getting the hang of it and nibbling off Dean's lips -- to which the hunter bellowed out a groan. _More_. One hand to the firm ass, unabashed, Dean kneaded until Castiel moaned so wantonly that any thought of denial was far from conceivable. He composed himself enough to bring Castiel's hand to their mark, to drag it up his chest so the angel got a physical feel for him before sealing the trembling hand tightly with his own over the scarred skin.

Castiel clutched to him by that mark, absorbing the residual 'mojo' that only Dean could give him. It was near too intense. The angel quivered, slipped against Dean, weak in the knees. Dean firmly took him by his ass and hoisted him onto the counter, breaking the kiss to bury his face in the dark hair and take a sharp breath. It was no real surprise Castel's legs parted willingly when he was settled, just far enough to fit Dean's hips.

It was in that moment, when Castiel lifted his head and Dean lowered his, that their eyes met. And not like 'love at first sight' more like 'I can see your soul'.

_Eyesex_.

But, it was intimate. Dean took Castiel's face in his hands, gentle as he led the slightly swollen lips to his own. It was chaste. Castiel hesitated, his free hand hovering, suspended in the air by Dean's head. When Dean pulled away, he finally saw the flush in the dirty scruff, the sunset red he knew the angel would look good in. He wondered where else Castiel blushed.

A soft kiss was laid on the flushed cheek with a hum. Castiel was so _perfect_. At least to him.

The angel's hand settled itself in the short, very dirty blond hair. It ran down the cut jaw to the tanned neck where it lasted with a firm yet unsure grip.

Dean slipped closer, pressing their bared chests together. Their breaths mingled as both panted, eyes lidded and lips scantly distanced. This type of thing, it took time. Castiel's fingers curled about the nape of Dean's neck, threaded through the fine hair there. His other hand squeezed the imprint, pushed a shallow breath from his dry lips.

"How does it feel?"

And Dean was frighteningly curious. His voice was a bit shaky as he too felt the flow of power transpiring between them. The angel had to feel it more.

"It," Castiel cleared his throat. Could words describe it? He could barely focus with Dean's glossy green eyes piercing through him, let alone voice the ethereal feeling pulsing between them.

Sensing the adorable display of a struggle, Dean let his gaze roam and hands idly wander. He focused on the fine lips, a certain swollen kind of pink. One of his thumbs brushed the parted lips, thrummed the lower one before simply holding the stubbly chin. And feeling Dean's focus on them, the angel thinned his lips shyly. The hunter moved on, let his eyes follow his hands. At the peak of Castiel's shoulders, down to his clavicle and throat. His palms massaged it with a kind of fierce delicacy, leaving the smooth skin warm. His fingers fanned and pressed as they trailed lower, memorising every shape and curve and point where the sensitive nerves fluttered. Such an honest vessel. It was when Dean fashioned the two pecs with extra curious, circular strokes that Castiel's grip tightened and his entire frame shuddered. Dean could feel the tremble from where their stomachs still brushed to the flitting of strong thighs about his waist.

Almost revived by the sensitive stroke, Castiel sucked in a breath to try and convey the earthy equivalent to this human in words.  

"It feels like I am part of you."

For a brief moment, Dean wished it were true. Then he gave the angel an old, lopsided smile, remaining silent as he stared into the liquid blue sea of the intangible eyes.

"Yeah, in more ways than one, soon," Dean chuckled.

Castiel replied with a curious, classic head tilt. Dean just waggled his brow and dove in for another breath taking kiss. Lips locked and bodies pressed tighter, they became this mess of limbs and groans, leaning on each other, rutting, eyesexing when a breath was taken.

After a thorough makeout, teeth, tongue, barely any lip, Dean jerked the angel up, higher above his hips, and shimmied the slacks the best he could. He just barely got the perfect globes of the angel's ass free when he was stopped by a firm -- no, bruising -- grip on his mark. He had never shuddered so hard before. With a grunt, he settled Castiel back on the counter.

"What, Cas?" he panted, sliding his face to the side of Castiel's neck to pepper it with lazy kisses.

"I could remove my clothes--"

"-- No mojo, promise me."

Castiel gave a curt laugh that rumbled them both.

"Nonsense. Allow me," he repeated, and Dean reluctantly allowed a scant breadth of space between them. The angel smiled coyly and leaned back, touching the mirror with his shoulders. His lower half lifted by his arched back and he shucked the pants and shorts down in a single go, clearly unashamed as his cock bounced up towards his trim belly with an enticing throb.

Dean traced Castiel's thighs, smooth, littered by fine, soft hairs, to his knees, and pulled the last of the clothing off along with the shoes and socks. The articles thumped by Dean's feet, rumpled as he kicked them away with a lazy move. The hunter didn't care. He had the angel naked, bare to his senses. His hands trailed back up the same path, paused at the hips to give them ample attention because it made Castiel whimper. Who else could make a godly creature whimper? Their eyes held as Dean reasserted himself between the spread legs and slotted his hips to Castiel's. his hands rested on the sensitive peaks of the angel's hips.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, unable to find his voice.

His face was by Castiel's now, their cheeks pressed, his words ghosting off the angel's crimsoned ear.

"This is not my real body," Castiel said with a bit of grief. And Dean sighed knowingly.

"I can see that."

Castiel pulled away a moment, confused. Then, his eyes locked on where he had tethered his hand to Dean's shoulder once more. With a tossed glance over his shoulder, he saw what Dean did in the mirror. It was him, all ragged, beastly, a monster. His wings were all cracked, broken bones bent up to the ceiling, lacking feathers at the moment. It was only when he summoned his grace that feathers formed, but Dean forbade that earlier.

"You find my true form to be..."

"Beautiful."

Castiel made a painful noise in his throat, like a hurt animal.

"I'm no better than a skin walker, or a wendigo. What is so appealing?"

At this point, Castiel had turned to face Dean's cheek, the green eyes riveted to the mirror. Dean kept quiet for a moment and peeked at Castiel out of the corner of his eye, a smile playing on his lips.

"Because," his hands slipped back 'til his arms encased the smaller waist, "of that."

Castiel didn't have to look at the mirror. A pulse of energy transitioned between them, much more powerful, rocking his entire body as Dean shifted closer, sealing every bit if them flush. He felt his wings flutter, feathers of light shift and sprout, lining his bones and fanning out. It didn't fade either, like usual, and Dean made a pleased sound, a soft grunt. Castiel had wrapped about him, unseen wings like a shell, his flesh even closer, arms around his neck, legs tight about his waist. Dean held him just as tight.

"You are my angel," he exhaled.

Castiel made a pitiful sound of assent, brushing his nose through the short hair

"Castiel," Dean hushed, rolling his body against the smaller one.

"I love all of you, every last damned bit of you."

His grip couldn't have held any tighter without threatening to break the angel.

"I believe," Castiel cleared his throat, "this is one of those ' _chick-flick_ ' moments."

Dean snickered, lost with his own brutal seriousness.

"But, I feel the same. Now, I think I would like it if you would proceed with my ass -- I find myself enjoying your dexterous skills even more now that--" Castiel was blushing, rambling at his confession, silenced by a painfully slow kiss pressed on his lips.  

Dean took Castiel's face in one hand, thumbed his cheek with a suggestive grin.

"Shh, angel. I've got you. Follow my lead."

Dean ran his fingers over the full lips, pressed the index and middle between them. Castiel's brow wrinkled.

"Use your tongue, get them nice and wet," Dean breathed, already excited at the idea of having the soft tongue on him.

Castiel obeyed, slipped the fingers past his lips and laved them experimentally with his tongue, taking wide laps and sucking them deeper down his throat -- to which Dean groaned appreciatively. His eyes were questioning even as he did as instructed, playing with the fingers as Dean wiggled them.

Dean shook his head at the nativity.

"Well," and he groped one of Castiel's ass cheeks, spreading them against the counter, leaving him vulnerable, "it's the easiest way I'm going to slide into you, right here."

Dean dipped one finger to tenderly rub the puckered hole. Castiel moaned over his fingers, grinding down on the pressure at his hole.

"Nice and wet, now. I plan to drive right in, make you--" he bit Castiel's neck roughly, drawing blood, "screahm."

Castiel eagerly lathered the fingers now 'til Dean was groaning.

"That's good--god, your lips are swollen, imagine them wrapped around my--" he choked at the thought, jerking his hips forward against the jut of the angel's cock and mouthing bruises along the exposed neck.

Castiel released the fingers and instantly went for Dean's lips, teeth clacking and biting, moans breaking into gasps. Dean wasted no time bringing his slicked fingers down to the parted cheeks, sliding them along the cleft to the fluttering hole. Castiel naturally tensed, squeezed the angel-brand and muttered Dean's name.

"I'll start slow," he offered, though he planned on pretty much wrecking the virgin body.

The wet fingers massaged and prodded, only getting one to the first bend.

"No, Dean," Castiel genuinely sounded frantic. His lithe body lifted itself and rode down the entire digit, ending in a drawn out groan. Dean looked turned on and surprised all in one expression as Castiel curled around him, panted into his hair and clawed with one hand at the nape of his neck.

"Doesn't hurt?"

He wiggled the finger, twisted it.

Castiel moaned more shallowly, breathless.

"Remember when you struck me?" Dean felt Castiel smile in his hair.

Dean's hand still hurt from that punch.

"Oh, you're getting it hard," Dean groaned. He quickly drew his finger free and thrust it back with another, scissoring and stretching the hole properly for himself. Castiel was a wanton, whimpering mess, fisting Dean's hair and upper arm, panting into his hairline, his entire body rocking, pulsing, begging.

"M-More -- Dean, please -- It feels so -ah- so good, _ah_!"

The angel let out a scream as something deep inside him was struck, stroked, and in every way prodded.

It was ironically heavenly. Dean groaned at the sweet, addicting sounds rolling off the angel's tongue, and massaged his prostate with measured strokes, leaving the angel to gasp on every breath he took.

"God, I want to plow right in," Dean grunted as he shifted even closer and began to shallowly thrust against Castiel's exposed prick.

"Dean, more, I want to feel more," the angel mewled, fucking himself on Dean's fingers. Dean had to hold him still to slip in a third and work them rhythmically. Castiel continued to rut, flexing his thighs, tensing in all the ways he could. Dean let him control it, enjoying the tight feeling of Castiel's hot body sliding roughly around him. He jerked his free hand to his belt and fly, and ripped them. The heavy denim slacked around his hips, quickly freeing his cock to the cool air. He gasped, but the sound caught as Castiel's hand wrapped loosely about his bare flesh and crudely stroked his length. His hand encased the angel's, guided it slowly, let his body take in the feel of the foreign, smooth skin stroking him.

Castiel's hands were... soft. There were no scars, no burns, no cuts, no calluses. He felt so pure. And that only made it hotter.

"Dean," the angel whined, and Dean met his frosted eyes.

"Yeah?" Dean gave in a throaty purr.

Castiel gave him a pitiful look, begging almost.

"You have to tell me. You want this?" Dean rocked their hips together, connecting their hard, flushed skin for the first time, "You want me?"

Castiel hummed at the feel of their cocks rubbing together and nodded. His smaller hand found them both and jerked opposite of his thrusting hip.

"You look so dirty for me, so willing to take it -- I've never seen someone so beautiful."

" _Dean_ ," Castiel mewled helplessly, feeling each word Dean said.

"C'mere."

Dean withdrew his thrusting fingers and grabbed the supple ass in both hands. Castiel reluctantly released their pricks and palmed Dean's shoulder, digging his nails in until it bled.

"Hey," Dean cupped Castiel's face with one hand. "You're alright."

And the stress seemed to melt away. Castiel lined up perfectly, eased about Dean's waist, wrapped around his neck. Dean was his only support. The first thrust was the slowest, not really a thrust at all. Dean was clutching to the smaller body, easing his hips up and letting Castiel sink down until the head brushed the twitching, loosened hole. Even as it easily slid through, Dean held back, kept a weak control while bottoming out. Castiel took a shaky breath and shuddered in Dean's arms, hit by the rush of pressure splitting him open. He was stretched wide, filled to the brim, and all of Dean.

"Move, Dean."

Dean huffed, quickly breaking and close to rutting the angel against the wall. The angel wasn't in pain, obviously from the purely blissful look on his face and the way his body clenched and milked Dean's throbbing cock.

"Hmph, hold on," the hunter grunted teasingly, gripping the sharp hips and pulling out 'til the glans had the rim stretched wide. Castiel made a breathless gasp, struggling to keep his arms about Dean's shoulders. The broad hips snapped forward as Dean drew the slim hips down, slamming into the tight heat with perfect accuracy. Castiel melted in his arms, moaned like a bitch in heat as he was overwhelmed by the insane pleasure for the first time in his long life. Dean picked up a steady, quick rhythm, from the crown to the hilt, exerting the most energy he ever had during sex; and Castiel took it, goaded him on by convulsing and pulling on his prick as he drew out and sucking him back in each time. Dean couldn't contain his voice, a litany of grunts and cries, heavy pants as he drew evermore sensitive by the virgin body.

Castiel was reacting so perfectly too. He moved in all the right ways, made the hottest, natural sounds - which all went straight to Dean's cock, throbbing hot in the confines of the angel's body - and did it all because of Dean. They hadn't said it, but after the years, the many silent years, one could feel it; even more now that they were so deeply connected. They fit so well together, moved as one; it was like fate, clichè. So, when Dean gave a particularly hard thrust, Castiel's voice cracked and his eyes rolled back, nails piercing the skin over Dean's shoulder blades, and Dean froze, focused on his angel's release.

"Cas?" he was breathless, eye dilated, body pulsing.

The angel took a moment to verbally respond, garnering a much needed breath.

"Don't stop, please." It wasn't begging or desperate. He just wanted to reach that peak, to reach it with Dean. Dean's hips stuttered, the sensitivity getting to him. His body hunched over the counter, crowded Castiel as he gave pathetic attempts to get a pace going again. The angel swiftly drug one hand to his mark and palmed it, shuddering himself as Dean worked up a good, steady glide, easing his way through a heady drag of tight skin over his hot flesh, extracting every bit of virginity from the the angel.

"You feel amazing," he eventually panted, grabbing Castiel's hand and smothering their bond at the same time. The lithe body jerked in response, squeezed and fluttered about the throbbing cock driving into it relentlessly, thoroughly rendering every inch of the vessel raw.

It was only after a few more thrusts, a couple grinds against the delicate bundle of nerves buried in Castiel, that the angel was teetering on the edge of orgasm. Dean was right behind him, holding back.

"Cas," he whispered, slowing his thrusts and coiling his arms around the angel's body to have none of them apart.

Castiel just gasped in a sharp breath and arched to reach the pistoning hips better.

"Cas--" Dean choked, quickly stealing Castiel's bond-bearing hand in his own and interlacing their fingers. There was no intangible link, just them, just Dean, and it had the Angel of The Lord coming, tensing and shuddering, pulsing around Dean in every way, pulling them both over.

Castiel's thick seed splattered between them, coated his stomach, and Dean's deep inside the angel, dirtying him further, claiming him. The human made a few last attempts at thrusts, grinding it out until he slumped against the counter with a high washing over him viciously. He vaguely felt the wings about them fading with the bliss, the appendages slumping to the floor, naked of their ethereal down. The only thing keeping him conscious was the body quivering in his arms, panting into his neck and most of all, squeezing his hand. Right. Castiel. It didn't feel real, all too good and uncomplicated. Dean didn't know if he should try to rouse the angel from his stupor.

"Cassie," he hummed, the pet name sweet on his tongue.

Castiel grunted and lifted his head, pupils blown so wide there was barely a hint of blue left.

"D... Dean," he nodded, voice wrecked.

Dean flashed half a smile and shifted, setting the angel back on the counter and attempting to withdraw. As soon as he tried, Castiel clutched onto him, refused to let go with his arms, legs, and ass.

"D-Don't. Stay with me." Castiel's smoky voice was nothing more than a whisper.

"Sure, Cas. Whatever you want," Dean submitted.

Castiel nodded in thanks, still clutching tightly.

"Relax," Dean wrapped his arms back around the slender waist, "I'm not going anywhere."

Dean lifted, balancing the angel's weight as he took a few practice steps. When he found he had balance, he brought them both out to the main room and crept to his bed though he doubted Sam would have stayed after the arguing started anyway, even more unlikely after the sex started. He fussed the covers down and settled on his knees, letting Castiel rest on his thighs. They eased back onto the sheets, Castiel's sex tousled hair a fluff on the pillows like a halo. Dean settled between the spread legs that relaxed to the sheets and cradled his frame gently, no longer constricting. He was careful about easing his weight on the angel, only sure when the smooth hands soothed up and down his back, easing him on. Once he laid atop the durable body, Dean set his forehead to Castiel's and took a light kiss, holding it before burying his face in the dark hair and getting used to the odd yet comfortable position. Castiel didn't settle, still soothing Dean's back.

"Go to sleep, Cas. I'm not going anywhere," he echoed.

Castiel hummed knowingly, carding a hand through the dirty blonde hair and resting the other on the raw looking hand print. It soothed and healed under his touch, returning to a scarred, pale color. Only then did he settle.

"I said no mojo," Dean mumbled and rolled his hips in reprimand.

Castiel moaned softly in apology and held Dean to him, enthralled at the warmth their bodies alone gave without touching the bond or using his powers. Castiel could feel Dean's heart beating, the steady thrum, and it calmed him, gave him silent hope. With that, his wings, the tattered bones laid out and hanging off the bed, unseen to the human eye, sprouted lush layers of downy feathers from pearl white to sea blue, pulsing the color in waves from the joints to the very tips. It was surprisingly satisfying.

"Beautiful," Dean mumbledce more, positively asleep.

For the first time in a long time, a true smile spread across the angel's lips. He was adrift in sleep the next moment, lost in the heat of his wings around them and Dean's body flush to his own, still buried deep. He couldn't wait for morning, for the shower Dean was dying to take with him. In the meantime, maybe he'd visit Dean's dream, get a bit more from his human.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I did this thing. I might turn this into a bigger thing with following sex-capades.


End file.
